


Revenge is Bliss

by ArticulateDream



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Dark, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mentions of non-con, broken willow, craziness, divergence from canon, in a big way, kidnap, mentions of abuse, mentions of torture, old enemies want revenge, spike gets his hands dirty, this probably won't end well, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:59:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArticulateDream/pseuds/ArticulateDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been 6 months since Willow disappeared. 6 months without hide nor hair of a clue, and they just got a break. You can be damned sure they're going to do everything in their power to get her back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a dark fic. It is not happy or fluffy. It probably won't have a happy ending. Be warned in advance of blood, death, gore, breaking of the feels, torturing characters and a divergence from canon.

Angel crouched on the edge of the building, another of L.A.’s less than picture perfect neighborhoods swirling below him. The day’s light was still fading, but this particular neighborhood boasted a number of over hanging walls that let the vampire hide from the sunlight until he was free to roam as he willed. 

His body was still, coiled and ready to spring into action. But his eyes did not cease. They noted everything with precision. For almost 6 months, He had not taken any new cases from Angel Investigations. For the last 4 months he’d been on ‘a leave of absence’ because his mind was not on helping the helpless. It was incorrigible, but the souled vampire couldn’t make himself care.

Down the building a few floors and pacing angrily was spike, minus his trademark black leather duster. He too watched as the sunlight withdrew inch by inch, minute by minute. Like his sire, Spike no longer cared about anything that the L.A. group of the scoobies might be doing.

Like his sire, he was preoccupied by the disappearance of their lover. 6 months since her ‘disappearance’ that played too much like abduction for either of them. For half a year now, they had been consumed entirely by their quest.

Spike growled a low feral sound that rumbled through his chest like thunder. The vestiges of the day finally finished filtering through the broken down neighborhood and Spike let loose the roar he’d been saving. It thundered through the streets below them, and Angel noted the few people on the street who did not belong hurried away from the street.

Both vampires dropped from their respective perches with a predatory ease, falling to the slick pavement of the broken street. The neighborhood could have been taken out of any slum in any major city. The houses were meshed together, more than a few in need of major repairs. Out front on the stoops, a mixture of the same glazed dark eyes watched them without interest. Bars adorned the windows, and neon lights lit a nearby corner store. 

Both men stood in unison, walking on each other’s flank. Everything about their movements was feral, predatory and deadly. There was no kind banter, no witty cynicism. For 6 months they’d been chasing leads, and it had been exhaustive. Angel barrel spoke if it did not refer to their mission. For more than 4 months now, Spike had opted out of hunting, preferring the ‘domesticated’ bagged blood they had access to. It allowed him more time to continue their hunt.

The vampires allowed the shadows to cloak them, only their pale skin, and Spike’s bright hair a testament to their continued existence. For as much of a ghetto as the area was, there was a demon bar in the area. Unsurprising; considering the area. Demons, at least those who could not pass for human often congregated to areas that were populated with people who were lost in the system. A place for the in betweens of the world.

They walked along the street for less than a block before ducking down and into an alley. From the alley the found the entrance down into the bar, which involved walking down another set of stairs and through a thick metal door.

The bar itself could have been any other dive they’d visited over the last months. A number of circular tables littered the meat of the bar, and it was littered with demons and humans of a dozen different races. Languages seemed to merge in the air into an indescribable cacophony of sound. Thy made their way past tables and up to the bar, where both men ordered double shots of O negative.

The bar tender looked to be an Urgswen demon. His skin was a dark brown-red, his forehead tipped with thick curved spikes that also protruded from his knuckles and collar bone. Both men received their drinks and surveyed the room looking for their contact for a moment before Spike turned back and to the bar tender.

“Mate, do me a favor? I’m lookin’ for a bloke by the name of Demm, know anybody of the like?” While Spike’s voice was quiet, there was a rough edge to it that made it exponentially more frightening. The bartender looked at Spike for a long moment before flicking his eyes across the room to an almost empty corner table where a single human sat sipping on his drink, eyes firmly attached to the vampiric duo who had just come into the room.

Spike looked back at the bartender and slipped him a five from out of one pocket before nudging his sire into movement towards the human. The man seemed completely out of place here. His dark hair was neatly combed and gelled away from smooth pale features, and he wore a tailored 5 piece suit that was almost the perfect blackness as the shadows in the bar.

“Demm?” It was Angel who spoke this one. For all the things Spike was, and had learned over his centuries, it was that his sire was an excellent manipulator. And this man was practically begging to tell him everything he knew. Angel’s voice was not his usual soft, kind timbre. Instead he had adopted Angelus’ cool, mocking tone.

“I am.” The man responded, nodding his head first to Angel and then to Spike, in proper protocol. Though Spike was more willing to bet it had to do with the fact that Angel had spoken first and had thus been identified as the ‘leader’ out of the two of them. “Please, have a seat so that we can talk.”

Both vampires sat quietly, careful to slow their movement to human speed so as not to spook the man. “I’ll admit.” Angel started “I was surprised to hear from someone in your circles Demm. I thought we’d burned out that bloodline years ago.” The man nodded quietly.

“Yes well, I understand you’ve been looking for someone for quite some time now.”

“Mmm. Yes, she is precious to us. Enough that we’ve thrown all available resourced into this.” Angel smiled violently.

“I realize this. The reason I came is because, my company deals with, relocating troublesome elements. “The man threw back what was left in his glass and signaled for another from the bartender.

“Continue.” This time even Spike glanced at the older man to his left, the inherent threat in that single word had nearly sent him spiraling back to a time when Angelus and not Angel had been in charge of the show.

“We had a nest that had to be relocated. The Master was, brutally violent. They’d drawn so much attention that we had to manufacture a serial killer for the area.”

“And how exactly, does this help me any?” The man licked his lips nervously before accepting another drink from the bartender and greedily sipping more of it down.  
“This Master, he was in your particular area up until about 6 months ago. He liked women. Pretty women.” Spike watched as Angel’s eyes took in the information and the larger man sat back, the gears in his head going a mile a minute.

“That’s all well and good mate, but again hows that one gonna ‘elp us out any?” Spike spoke for the first time, trying desperately to throw the man off. If they got another false lead, they might lose all hope that they had left of finding her.

“I was in charge of moving him. He was alone when we moved the nest, said his minions were out finding him a new toy.” Demm sighed, loosened his tie and took another slug from his drink. “He mentioned the two of you. By name. Said he like to take other men’s toys, and that he’d scored the prize of a lifetime. That he was taking Angelus’ and William the Bloody’s pet home with him.” The man spoke quickly, blanching a bit more with each word that he bit out.

If Spike’s heart had still been capable it would have been in his throat. As it was, Angel replied.

“Ebin.” The word was bitten out with more rage than Spike had ever heard his souled counterpart attain.

“Yes.” Demm’s voice was barely a whisper.

“You do of course have an address for us.” Angel’s voice was a soft deadly croon.

“Of course.” The man slid a thick envelope across the table. “There is an address, whatever information we have on the place including surveillance photos from the last 4 weeks and blueprints.” He explained. Spike picked up the enveloped and opened it, methodically shuffling through the papers when one of the surveillance photos caught his eyes.

It was a 8 x 10 black and white photo of a woman staring out through the window on the second floor of the manor house. Spike hadn’t seen her for six months. Even bleached of its color, he knew the exact shade of her hair and eyes. She looked terrified. His non existent heart jumped into his throat again. She looked broken.

Angel looked over at the pictures, and his eyes met Spike’s as he spoke a single word.

“Willow.”.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trail appears to Willow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again. Not a happy fic! Be warned. It may be triggery, and has elements of Non-con though nothing explicit.

Trail of breadcrumbs. 

Mother told her a story about them once. Led the little children right on and back to the village.

She wonders if thats what she needs. A trail of breadcrumbs, to lead her back. Back and away from the red and the black, and the kiss of the lash. She wonders, but she doesn't really let the thought take hold. That would be bad, of course she would be punished for such bad bad thoughts.

Once she would have thought about it. About all of it. She would have schemed, and planned. There might have been diatribes, of course there would have been research. 

Not now though. Thoughts and tangents lead to the kiss of the lash. And while, in a sick depraved sort of way shes come to expect it. To ask for it. To crave it, she doesn't want it too often. It wouldn't scar. He wouldn't have that. Not on his nice little pet. If she scarred he'd just lash her twice as hard, twice as often. 

But still. The trail of breadcrumbs comes floating back to her. Then she sees why. There is a trail. Just a small one. But its not breadcrumbs, its something else. Small, and red and shining. She knows its there, but there is no one else she might ask about them. No one else she might look to, to see if her mind had finally snapped under the pressure or if the trail is really there.

It hasn't been there all day. She knows that much. He had her brought back here, to her room at dawn. The room is sparse. It has a beed, comfortable enough but lacking the safety of what her bed had been once upon a time. Its window is high enough, that she can see the landscape, can feel the sun. But it has heavy drapes, and the windows are barred. The door is open, but she dares not leave. She learned that lesson quick enough.

The trail wasn't there with the first rays of the morning. But, with the hours continuing on it seems to be advancing. First its just one dot. One piece. One segment. It sits there, shining. Bright and burgundy and catching the light ever so slightly, far down the hall as it is. She can barely see it, and in the dimness of the hall it just looks like a drop of blood. 

Thats what she thinks it is really. She's not sure what occurred during the night, so its plausible enough she might be bleeding. It has happened before. But then there would be more blood...or she'd feel the pain. Unless her body has finally done what it has been threatening to for a time, and her nerves have finally shut down. 

But, as the day grows longer, more droplets seem to appear. She doesn't notice them at first. But in between the dreams and nightmares-she wakes from both with equal startlement, but can no longer tell which is which-she wakes and sees more of whatever the substance is. They are marching down the hall, toward her room. Toward her. Once, she would have watched with a scholaristic intensity. Taking notes, making sketches. 

Now..now she watches when she can. Its between the naps, that she needs to sustain herself. What little of herself there is left at least. But still, they advance. They get closer and she can see more of them. And a piece of herself she thought dead seems to resurface. She notes that the advancing line-she thinks of it like an army regiment, advancing toward an unknown battle-and the peculiar shimmer all of the pieces seem to have.

They are all-she notes detachedly-the same color, size and length apart. Even more than the trail of breadrcumbs, shes now reminded of E.T., a trail of reese's pieces. Her mind is screaming at her now to stop. This ends only in the wicked touch of a single tail whip, made to open the skin on her back like peeling off the skin of an orange. But now, the life of before has started to filter back to her. It isn't that she ever forgot such things, but everything that he hadn't taught her. Everything that didn't equal in to her survival in this place got locked away.

And now the army has advanced right in and through her doorway. Shes sitting up on her bed now. The light from the afternoon fading from the harsh light of the afternoon to the more subdued fading light of dusk and early evening. She's huddled up on her bed, watching the dots continue towards her as though they were an Alien species here to conquer. She wants to move off the bed, wants to explore them. But that would mean moving off the bed, and suddenly that is as frightening as it was when she was three years old and still afraid of whatever might lurk beneath her bed.

She sits on the bed, wide eyed and anxious when the next droplet shimmers into reality. This one is so close to the bed, and to her that she can't help but reach out a single finger to touch it. Just to make sure its real, and that her mind hasn't been playing games with her during the long hours of the day. 

Her finger touches the bubble of color, and for a moment nothing happens. But then everything seems to. First the dot shes touched then each behind it starts to swirl with color. Burgundies, Scarlets, Blacks and a streak of white that nearly has her faling off. Its a white like blonde, blonde like-No. Her mind shuts down the thought, thoughts like those cannot lead to anything helpful. 

The dots which have been spaced fairly far apart seem to fall apart, until there are dozens more than only a second ago. They reach in a long strand, bright and alive and thrumming with power and color. At this, another piece of the girl wakes up, and she moves out of the bed. A bared foot falls softly on the floor and is followed by an equally bare leg. 

She moves out of the bed and towards the door until she is at the precipice. Intstincts beaten into her with fist, and lash and crop scream at her. Scream at her that she is at the door. But her curiosity, and her personality seem to be waking back up. With them, her mind starts to reawaken. Cautious, she peeks her head out the door and looks to the right and the left down the hall which seems to continue either way. There are no scarlet trails those ways. There are no breadcrumbs. 

Her eyes refocus in the line that heads forward, and around the corner. Taking a deep steadying breath she watches the scarlet trail and places one foot outside the door. When no immediate retaliation is forthcoming, she continues forward..


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Angel man a rescue attempt for Willow.

Spike paced. fourteen steps, the thumping of his thick boots on the hardwood floors comfortable. It wasn't a loud rhythm, but every fourteen steps he would pivot and start back the way he'd come. He hadn't eaten in 12 hours, hadn't slept in more than 36. But he couldn't stop yet. 

If he stopped, he'd start to think again. If he thought, he'd remember that Red was in Angelus' most hated enemies hands. The hands of a man who relished in torturing strong young women into madness. No. So he paced, 14 steps back and forth in the same rut of hardwood that he'd been pacing in for months. 

Upstairs, his sire was deeply unconscious. He'd gotten a bit loose in the head, after he'd realized that it was Ebin who had her. Cordelia had tagged him with a tranquilizer dart hours ago. She'd shrugged and told them all she was putting him down before he tried to do something and hurt himself. No one disagreed.

But in the next room over, Wesley and Fred were frantically searching through the books and tomes that Angel had on hand. They couldn't do a regular locator spell because they lacked her blood, and no doubt Ebin had her locked under any enchantments he could get his grubby little paws onto. 

So now, Wesley and Fred were searching for any source that could help them pinpoint the witch's hiding spot, including a handful of references Willow had made before her departure. They's been inside now for almost 5 hours, if they hadn't found anything before sunset the next day, then Spike and Angel would be setting off by themselves. 

Spike had been pacing in front of the door, since they'd closed it. He'd tried to sleep, but much like the last several months, was unable to find unconsciousness. Finally Spike stopped pacing, his eyes glaring towards the door, hooded and dark. He settled in one of the red lounges and lit a cigarette, eyes still baleful. 

He couldn't wait much longer. An hour perhaps, two if he really pushed it. But he didn't want to sleep until he knew what was going on. Unless he fell asleep from pure exhaustion, it was doubtful he'd be able to sleep until he knew whether or not they'd found a spell. 

He didn't doubt that with Angel running with him, that the location of red would be hidden. But it still wouldn't do. It'd be messy, and with Willow on the line Spike just wasn't willing to risk it. Add to that, the fact that he'd probably have to knock his sire out to keep from trying to find her, and Spike had everything riding on this. 

He inhaled, he exhaled. His mind continued to whirl thinking of Willow and not thinking of her all at the same time. It was a futile process. After 6 months of not waking next to her, without listening to her babble, or watching her back arch as she moaned...she was everywhere, all the time, his own personal poltergeist. 

Spike sighed, and ground the cigarette into the floor. As he did, Wesley opened the door looking as exhausted as Spike felt. The blonde man jumped up. 

"Well?" 

"We've found something. It's a long shot, but considering how closely Willow is bonded, it should work. We'll have to wait until Sunset tomorrow to complete the ritual, but then you'll know where she is, and how to get to her. Her blood will call to yours." 

Spike nodded, and before Wesley could say anything else he headed towards the suite he and his sire currently shared. 

\-- 

Angel watched across the Hyperion as Wesley chanted, and Fred burned incense and herbs, a mortar filled with pulpy crushed herbs in one hand. The smoke of incense, the sound of Wesley chanting in Sumerian, and the pungent aroma of herbs assaults his senses all at once. 

Through the smoke that fills the lobby, he can make things out vaguely. There is a frown on Wesley's face as he chants, concentration and a stubborn urge to pronounce each and every symbol perfectly. Cordelia watches from somewhere near her desk. Her face seems smooth, and flawless, a void of emotion that disturbs him on her. Spike sits on one of the red lounges that dot the room, elbows resting on his knees, his head lowered between shoulder blades. 

Outside, the light has already begun to fade. They'll need to leave soon. No idea how far away Ebin's hold is. Though angel doubts it is far, Ebin has forever had a knack for finding a single burrow hole and hiding there as long as he might. After only a few months, it is doubtful he will have moved. 

Across the room, he can hear Wesley's voice begin to taper off. Fred says something in the same dead language and the crushed herbs begin to smoke slightly. Angel can feel himself growing lightheaded from the pungency, even across the lobby. 

Spike stands, and slides into his game face. From across the room, his golden eyes meet Angel's dark brown ones, and its a shot of electricity that grounds him. Spike still has his eyes captured, when fangs tear a wound in his left forearm. Some of the blood is fed into Fred's mortar, more of it however, is scattered across the floor. 

Wesley's speaks a final time. Its the same archaic speech that was dead long before Angel's own birth some centuries before. As the Englishmen finishes, the herbs begin to burn, and the smoke that rises is a strange red-grey color. 

Spike snarls, a vicious guttural sound, that is even stranger in this familiar room that Angel cannot find familiarity with. Angel strides across the room, memory guiding him where his sight is obscured, until he has crossed the room. In front of him, he can see Fred and Wesley waving away the smoke, beginning the habitual tasks of cleaning up after themselves. 

He settles down next to Spike, his eyes drawn to the torn flesh on his forearm. It isn't a deep thing, and already, he can see the edges of the torn flesh beginning to knit and heal. On the floor, the bloodied droplets have taken on different characteristics. 

The droplets have moved, a shining red and black trail that beckons to them towards the wide double doors of the hotel. They are black and red, shining with brown and white in their deepest depths. 

"You're all right?" The question is more of a statement, and rather than speaking, Spike nods gruffly and stands. 

"So what's the deal then mate?"

"As I mentioned before, the spell works off of a prior claim. Thats why we anchored it to you, you had a claim on Willow before Angel. Your blood calls out to hers-" he gestured to the trail of shining droplets. "Follow it, and you'll find her."

"I need a spot of blood, and then we can be on our way." Spike strides from the room towards the small refrigerator that is in the next room. 

"Thank you." Even to Angel the words seem inadequate.

Before Wesley can answer, Fred pipes up. "Of course Angel. It's...well it's Willow! What else would we do?"

Angel wants to say more. It's lying there between him and his once employees. He wants to thank them, apologise, do anything to help this growing distance between them. Before he can do anything else however, Spike returns to the room, the gash in his arm already almost healed. 

He looks from Spike to Fred and understands. Willow is whats important here. Time for apologies and thanks will come later. For now, they have to find Willow. Its all that matters. Once the search to find her has been completed, he'll do what he can, but until then, its all just...secondary.

Spike catches his eye, and the two of them head towards the car. 

\--

The girl stands, poised on the brink of catastrophe. In either direction the hall leads away, flanked by thick oak doors on one side, and the wide covered windows on the other. It lends a gloomy disquiet over everything. To her right, there is nothing but the gloom of the hallway, and eventually a turn that will lead her away.

To her right, is the trail. It stands waiting for her, no impatience or anger at her dismay. She steels herself, breath coming faster and harsher, but continues. Each step is a tiny disobedience. He will be angry if he finds her out of her room. 

She knows, and it sends her heart beating against her ribs hard enough that she wonders if it will bruise. As she follows her army of red, her mind slowly, tenatively begins to follow as well. She can't remember why shes here. Okay, not completely true.

She's here because _He_ wills it. She doesn't think of his name. Instead when she thinks of him its pain, kiss of the lash, tingling in her palms from when she was left dangling by them for hours at a time. She tries not to think, just steps. Step. Step. Step. But she can't remember why she would have come to such a place. She wouldn't have, would she? They probably wouldn't have let her come anyway.

The thought is strange. They? Who are they? The question is simple, but her mind slides around it, leaving it behind her as she continues. Each step is another revolution. Anothes example of something she though never to do. How long has she been here? And who is she?

She can't remember and it frustrates her. When they reach the end of the long hall, she pauses and looks around carefully. The hall bends sharply to the left again, her guides reaching around the corner impetuously. She takes a deep breath, and peers around the sharp angle of the wall, eyes searching.

If _He_ finds her, it will be no good. But if any of the others find her, it will be no better. Perhaps worse, because they will fill her with their own punishments before she is sent to His mercies. She shudders, a chill rising up her spine. He won't scar her, not yet at least. Not until she's been broken.

She's unsure of what that means, but somewhere within her it frightens her.What might happen then? What might she do? These thoughts seem somehow alien to her. As though they came from elsewhere. Do? What difference would that make? She might live out the remainder of this short life in misery and pain. 

She sighs, head resting against the cool wall. Wouldn't it be easier to just stop now? Go back to her room, simply exist...forget that she'd ever seen this trail in front of her. No. the thought was cold and angry, as though the girl's thoughts had been blasphemous. She continued to follow the trail, but began to notice its path as they drew closer and closer to the front of the house. 

Each step became harder and harder. The girl shook with each step. Finally she reached a point she could go no further. In front of her, the two massive wings of the house met at a grand staircase that sloped down towards the front doors of the house. The trail continued down and over the stairs. 

The girl froze. Unable to go further. She couldn't, couldn't, go any further. She remembered the first time her back had bled, on fire from the whip that had seared skin from flesh. It had been because she'd tried to escape. Her mind screamed at her to go, but much as she wished it, she could not move. 

Just as she was about to find another way that might lead her back, a roaring thunder seemed to rock the premises. She fell from her unsteady gait to her knew, eyes blurring from pain at old injuries. Would there be no end? Just suffering and more suffering until her body finally give itself up?

The girl's thoughts doubtless would have continued in such a way, if it hadn't been for the door. The door thundered once, and held. Something slammed against it a second time and a large chunk of wood fell away from it to the floor. A roar sounded from outside, and the girl's ears perked up though she didn't know why. The door thundered a third time, and as it did the door shattered falling away to the ground. 

In its place, stood a towering dark haired man. He snarled viciously his head lowering between thick shoulders, and even at her range, hiding in the shadows that cloaked the stairway, she could see the rage pouring from his eyes. From below her, she could hear the surefooted gait of the guard patrol. 10 Minions chosen for any number of things including skill, prowess, an ability to follow orders, and a lack of intelligence. 

As though on cue, the men came barreling into the room. She quivered, if any of them saw her it would be over. However, the thought was in vain. In barely a span of heartbeats she watched as the man easily dispatched all but one of the minions. He ran out the door, and drifted back in as a puff of ashes. 

Behind him, strode in a second man. He was slighter than the first, but no less dangerous. If the first man was a bear, this one would be a predatory cat. The two of them shared a glance, and the first man took off towards the door the minions had appeared through. 

The girl continued to watch this second slighter man. As he came closer she could make out facial features. Pale skin, cheekbones sharp enough to slice, long sinewy muscles, blue blue eyes, and hair a bright white-blonde. Spike.The girl looked at the man quizzically. Did she know him? Should she know him?

She frowned in agitation, but quickly refocused as he walked forward. He moved slowly, carefully, as though she were a wild animal that might bolt at any moment. It reminded her of another time he'd walked the same way. Wait. Remembered? Though the image had floated across her mind's eyes, now it fled and she could not hold onto it. 

The man advanced again, he'd reached halfway up the stairs. As she watched, she realized that her guides stopped at him. Each time he grew closer, more of them disappeared. When he was almost all the way up the stairs to where she had collapsed in a boneless pile, he sat on the stairs. 

"Willow luv?"

Spike taking one of her hands in his, a smile on his lips as he kissed her. 

Spike snarling and roaring as he tore into battle.

Spike watching his soaps while he drank cold blood from a mug. 

Spike watching her eyes, his own hesitant as he leaned in to kiss her the first time.

Spike asleep on the bed. 

Spike tearing the head off of an Urmbrea demon that had tried to kill Willow, and presenting her its head as a present.

Spike curled up, his head in her lap as he mourned Drusilla's death.

Spike. Spike. Spike.

Spikespikespikespikespikespike! 

You came for me...

The girl looked up, tears in her eyes. Spike, it was spike! 

"Red?" His voice was more wary now, but still gentle.

"My hair's red, it was black once..but I don't remember why. The memories are like water, they ripple and change...ripple and change..."

"Will you come with me luv?" His voice was still quiet, and gentle, wariness gone, and as he spoke he gestured behind him to the wreckage that had once been a door. 

Fear choked her breath. The stairs! She began to rapidly shake her head back and forth.

"Can't. Then _he_ 'll know. can't. no. no. no. no. no." 

"Shhh luv, its okay. We won't take the stairs, are there others? Is there another way?"

She barely had to think. The side stairs. 

"that way.."she pointed to her right towards the other wing of stairs. "the other stairs..."

"All right then."

Spike stood up in a long fluid movement and finished walking to the top of the stairs. He extended one hand down, and the girl took it without hesitation. They traveled down the right hall, the girl spooking any time there was a loud noise from the basement, Spike always calming, and cajoling even while he balanced on the knife edge of fleeing into battle.

It took only a few long tense minutes before they'd reached the old servant stairs. Her stairs. The girl opened the door, leading to a small enclosed pair of stairs that creaked and groaned with each step. When they reached the bottom, before she could open the door, Spike stopped her. 

"Just a minute now luv, let me check it first."

She bit her lip, and stood on the stairs while Spike bypassed her and quietly slipped out the door. The minutes passed like hours, roars of anger and shouts of pain echoing in the hallway outside. Every moment that passed, she was worried that something would happen. That Spike had been a mirage. That it would all end like another passing dream, and she'd wake in the barred room passing hours until the next moments of agony. 

Then he came back. He smiled, took her hand again and they passed into the hall. The other man was in front of them, and seemed to know where he was going. They moved quickly, Spike picking her up after a few short minutes so they could run. 

She tucked her head into his shoulder, and breathed in the scent of blood, and death. Ashes and smoke. The scent of Spike. She didn't notice when they cleared the house and grounds. Didn't notice when they passed the main road, and instead ran down to a small unpaved road where Angel's car sat waiting. 

By the time they had gunned the car, and were racing back to L.A., she didn't notice anything at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel watches over Willow and Spike as they speak.

Angel watched Willow sleep fitfully, sheets tangled over her slim form. Through the doors behind him, and just down the hall Spike slept as well. Whether he'd made it to his own suite for once, or had climbed into Angel's own bed, only time would tell. 

They'd somehow managed to not only find Willow, but escape with her unscathed. The two vampires had barely spoken on the ride home, both of them too tense to be trust that their rescue attempt had in fact succeeded with a minimum of difficulty. 

Willow hadn't stirred during the entire ride, remaining curled up in Spike's protective arms. Angel hadn't asked. In fact, he had made very sure not to. Not until she'd woken and he'd been given the chance to see her condition for himself. But he hadn't had to ask. The way Spike held himself, from the tilt of his arms to the look in his eyes translated boldly to Angel. 

Angel sighed and looked down to his notepad. A small piece of charcoal rested limply between his fingers, a rough sketch of Willow resting on the paper. He was torn on whether to continue or not. It hurt, to look at Willow and see the dark stripes and patterns that abraded her pale skin. And yet, the familiar tilt of her head and stretch of her arm was so tempting...too tempting.

So he'd sketched. For months her absence in his life had created a void that translated into his drawing. With her backm the temptation had proved too great. And yet... His hands moved without concious direction until her body blurred from the shoulders down, leaving only her sleeping face visible. 

Finished, if not content he closed the sketchbook, and rose to leave the room. He remembered Drusilla's moments of inclarity and fugue. Wandering disconnected from the world around her, seeing nothing, recognising no one. During those times her only regular companion had been Spike, following her, tending to her when she couldn't even remember his name.

If Willow were to rise in such a state-he brushed the thought from his mind. Pausing at the door he watched Willow sleep for a brief moment before passing through the rest of her suite into the hall. Walking down the hall, the evidence of both Spike and Willow was present. 

The labyrinthine basement of the Hyperion had been remodeled leaving them each a suite of private rooms as well as the innumerable other rooms that filled the basement like Willow's magic space, and the library they used for research. There were also 2 guest suites, and a large kitchen that they shared.

As he wandered, Angel passed the door to his own suite. Before he even entered the door, he knew Spike would lay sleeping in the bedroom. His scent filled the rooms, and a trail of clothing wound its way to the bed. Angel picked the clothing up as he walked, finally depositing it in a chair opposite the bed that dominated his suite. 

Much as he'd known Spike was probably in his bed, it didn't lessen the tug on Angel's heart. The younger vampire was sprawled out and across the immense bed, blankets askew, a pillow grasped tightly against his cheek and chest. Angel smiled fondly, rejecting the impulse to run a gentle hand through his childe's hair. 

A hundred and years and more, and still his boy could move him. He denied the impulse to climb into bed behind him, and try to find some measure of solace in Spike's presence. He wouldn't sleep, and the british vampire needed his. Instead, Angel removed a small mostly empty mug of blood that sat congealing on the bedside table, and slipped from the room silently.

Padding down the hall, he moved through the kitchen seamlessly. Moving more on auto-pilot than his own volition he washed and dried the mug before putting it away in a cupboard. At some point, though he'd argue fiercely, Willow had managed to domesticate him. Spike was still her pet project. 

Angel stood silently in the kitchen for a few long minutes, body agitated with his idleness. Finally he moved, pulling the same mug he'd just washed from the cabinet and placing a plastic bag of blood into the mug before putting it in the microwave to warm. The heady aroma of warm blood filled the kitchen, and Angel removed the mug, opening the plastic and pouring the steaming blood into the mug.

Turning back to the scarred wooden table that took up the middle of the large kitchen, Angel saw Spike emerging from his bedroom down the hall. Angel smiled slightly at his appearance; hair mussed, and clothing rumpled. His skin was still a tough too pale for Angel's liking, a mystery ailment of the spell they'd cast to find Willow. 

He placed the mug back onto the table, sliding it to Spike's side of the table and turning to make another for himself. He heard rather than saw Spike seat himself at one of the bar stools and wrap his hands around the warmth of the mug. 

"Up already?" Angel's voice seemed to echo, false normalcy hollow in his voice.

"Nightmares." Spike took a long draught from his mug, his eyes watching as Angel sat down with his own mug of blood and drank as well. 

"She's still asleep."

"Take it I wasn't out long then, eh?"

"An hour, maybe two.." Spike nodded rather than replying again. "Before she wakes I need you to tell me something Spike." Spike's eyes were hooded when they met Angel's and for a long moment they searched his eyes and face instensely. Then they dropped to the table that lay between them. 

"Willow." Spike sighed quietly and drank again from his mug, eyes pointedly fixed on the wood grain. "She's..." Spike paused, trying to find the words, and met Angel's eyes. "She isn't Drusilla. she recognised me but Ebin's gotten his filthy paws on her." Spike's upper lip curled in displeasure. "I don't know how bad Red's off. But dammit! she was right there when we broke down the door to his house Sire." He raked a frustrated hand through pale hair before continuing. "She was right there, Red was..she couldn't come down the stairs. We had to come down a side stair, it was like the look Dru had when we had to teach her about the sun time and again. She wasn't afraid of the stairs, but of what he'd do to her if he found out about it." Spike's eyes flashed golden in rage."I don't..she's still red. Still mine, Ours.."

"But...?"

"But it's like a piece is missing. There but not there, all at the same time."

Angel watched as Spike spoke, emotions chasing over his face as his already rough voice cracked with grief. The older vampire understood, or tried to at least. Spike's greatest joy in finding Willow had been the fact that for once he was second to no one. They had come together as equals. To have her reduced to a walking shadow of herself was painful enough to Angel, without having played Guardian to another broken woman for a hundred years. 

"It'll be okay." The sound of his own voice startled Angel, but Spike's eyes were suddenly riveted to him. 

"You can't know that." 

Angel weighed his answer heavily in his mind before responding, Spike's eyes still fixed on him burning with a strange mixture of intensity, fear, determination and hope. "Even after everything else Willow has been through she's never completely lost herself. Almost a decade of living on the hellmouth losing her friends, and her family she never completely lost her-"

"This isn't like anything she's ever been through before!" Spike exclaimed angrily "Ebin-"

"I know. Better than you. But Willow wouldn't give up on us. we can't give up on her." Angel kept spike's eyes. "It'll be okay...I promise." The words sounded hollow even to his ears, but Spike's eyes were calmer now, if still too bright.

"I'll hold you to that Sire."

Both men sat in the silence for several more minutes, finishing cooling mugs of blood. As they sat, they could feel the sun rise, instincts telling them to hide where it was dark, that there was danger. Unsuprisingly, neither moved from their basement kitchen. 

After some time of the monotonous silence, Angel took the empty mugs and left them soaking in the sink. Quietly, he led Spike back to bed. Somehow they managed fall together into an exhausted restless sleep, both listening even in sleep for noise from Willow's room across the hall.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Angel have a chance to see Willow awake.

Spike watched with no small degree of caution as Willow slept. The witch was underfed, her hair lank, and deep circles remained under her eyes. There were other marks too. No scars, thank all the gods, but bruises, abrasions, cuts. He would repay it all in kind. With interest.

He sighed softly. But that wasn’t the important thing right now. What was important was Red. Willow. One hand ran through his for once un-gelled hair. Willow hated it when he gelled it into a helmet. Or so she’d said on more than one occasion. He choked back a sob. Unwilling to wake her with this pain.

How had this happened? This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. He wasn’t supposed to take care of her. Well, not like this. There would always be the little things. Take care of when she was sick, or over exerted herself on some spell, or was just so…human. But not mad. Not. Drusilla.

The name rang in his head like a bell. Dru all over again. Crazy and beyond recognition. Except he’d never seen Dru when she was sane. Before Angelus found her, broke her, and then turned her. So that he could keep her for a pet. Is that what Ebin had planned? Take Willow, break her, then return her to Angel like a parting gift?

He could feel a growl low and deep in his chest. Rumbling like thunder. But then he looked back at Willow and bit it back until there was no noise. He couldn’t take any chance. She’d been willing at the manor, she’d recognized Spike even. After a few moments at least.

That much hadn’t been stolen from them. Perhaps her will, perhaps some of that spirit. But not her hope. Not her vampires, Angel and Spike. Her fanged crusaders. Spike coughed in laughter, trying to distract himself. Trying not to cry. He would not cry. Willow would be fine. She had to. Peaches would never recover else wise. Even now the poof was in his room somewhere brooding about the fact that he hadn’t found her in time. Rather than acknowledging the joy that they had found her. Tosser.

Spike’s internal rant at his sire was cut short when Willow began to toss and turn, rather than lay there quietly. In an instant Spike was at her side. One cool hand, brushing the hair off of her face. He was elated, he was terrified. He watched as she slowly started to rise to conciousness, and stepped back from the bed, sat back down in his chair. No sudden movements, no loud noises. Careful, careful, don’t want to spook her.  
He watched her eyes open quietly. Watched as her dark eyes surveyed the bedside table, unfamiliar door. She sat up slowly, probably still smarting from the array of destruction that currently occupied various parts of her body. One hand reached up to rub her eyes, and then those same dark green eyes saw Spike.

For a moment, they were clear. And in that moment he could see Willow. Unbroken, whole, his willow. And then, inexplicably, they clouded over. The red head cocked her head to one side and smiled, a soft maddening smile.

“Spike.”

“That’s me luv.” Spike struggled to speak, his throat feeling choked. The last thing he wanted was to spook her because he was being emotional. “D’you know where you are?”

Willow smiled shyly and shook her head no, but her eyes seemed coy and less cloudy than a moment go.

“We’re in your room my sweet. You don’t recognize it?”

“It’s muddy, and the colors all ran together.” She pursed her lips. “The girl in the back sees it, but I don’t understand.” She stopped for a minute and cocked her head. “I got lost in the ripples.” She spoke clearly, but her words were riddles. Spike could feel his heart fracturing inside his chest, tears pricking at his eyes. Was his Red still in there somewhere? Trapped in madness with her magic and power?

“Don’t be upset.” Willow spoke again, her dark eyes clear and glass like. “They’ll make it back, they just have to find the way.” She smiled softly, eyes glowing. But before Spike could respond of tr to coax a continued effort her eyes clouded over again and she was lost.

 

______________________  
In the room across the hall, Spike sat with Willow as she ate. She’d barely stopped speaking since she’d woken up, and Spike had been sitting with her since then. Angel only knew this however, because he could hear them across the hall. He hadn’t been able to make himself enter the room.

Broken and lost and gone. She was just as bad, if not worse than Drusilla. When Spike had initially exited the suite to get something to eat, his eyes had been red rimmed and bleary, a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. 

Just looking at her Angel knew. He knew what it would take to break a strong young woman like Willow. She would have fought as hard as she could for as long as she could. But listening to her speak as he sat on the floor in the hall was shredding his heart.

Though that wasn’t the leading reason he’d been unable to enter. He was afraid, terrified actually. She remembered so little, and she and Spike had been traveling together for years by the time she’d come to him. What if she didn’t remember? If he walked into the room and instead of recognition there was nothing but blank confusion.  
What would he do then? What could he do? He sighed and leaned his head back, eyes closed. He had to stop this. Spike would need to sleep soon, and he wouldn’t go to bed without Angel. With Willow so close, he’d probably have to drag teeth to get Spike into bed and he still looked sickly and ill. 

Angel stood slowly, eyeing the doorway into willow’s suite like a hangman’s noose. He took an unnecessary breath and walked in through the small sitting room into willow’s bedroom. She sat up on bed, her back to a number of small pillows. Aross from her lounging in a small chair, spike spoke quietly to her.

When Angel walked into the room, Spike stopped speaking after a moment and smiled at angel. “Took ya long enough mate.” 

 

_______________________________________ 

Willow looked at the bear of a man that she’d seen back at the bad place. He was wearing a pair of dark slacks, and a thin grey shirt. His muscles rippled in long waves over his body, and his brown eyes were such a warm color she almost wanted to fall into them.

Angel. Her mind reminded her, the name like a caress in her mind in an instant she was overwhelmed by a flurry of memories.

Angel smiling at Willow, his thumb tracing over the pulse in her wrist. 

Angel smiling shyly as he gave Willow a drawing of herself. 

Angel’s body wrapped around hers as they kissed. 

Angel snarling and in game face as he demolished a sect of demons that had kidnapped Willow.

The first time she’d woken next to Angel.

There were dozens of memories. Stolen moments, shared kisses. Years of love and trust and friendship rushing back to her in the blink of an eye.

“Angel…” Even the girl knew that her voice must sound strange, and she caould feel tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. His eyes met hers and she could see a strong emotion fighting in his eyes. 

The ripples that filled her mind parted for a short moment and she saw the woman who’d gotten lost. She looked at the woman, and as she did, her eyes cleared and she spoke without issue or confusion.

“I love you Angel, silly vampire thinking I’d forget you. Take care of spike for me now okay?” Tears began to spill down the girl’s face and she didn’t know why. But the woman continued to speak through her. “It’ll be okay, I promise. Just trust me okay?”

Before either of the men could answer, the water smoothed itself, and the woman was left. “She couldn’t stay long. She’s still lost..” The girl’s voice was quiet and as she finished speaking she began to cry anew.

 

______________________________________

Angel watched as Willow finally drifted off to sleep, her face tired and pinched. She’d cried for a long time, wracking sobs that made her smaller than usual frame shake and quiver. Angel and spike had sat with her on the bed, Angel stroking the piece of flesh between her thumb and forefinger while Spike had sung her an old lullaby, stroking her hair softly. 

On the chair behind him, nearly as exhausted as their girl, spike was slumped in a chair. Angel turned to look at him, and was dismayed to see Spike’s blue eyes looked dead and sunken into his face. It was despair, aging a face that time could no longer touch, and it hurt Angel to see his boy so grieved.

He smiled, a frail quivering thing, and extended one hand out to the younger vampire. Spike looked at it for a minute before he met Angel’s eyes again. “Come on Will…” Angel spoke quietly, his voice hypnotic. “Come an’ sleep with me will ya sweet William?” Angel could feel himself relax and spike’s eyes took on a queer half glazed look.

Generally he didn’t like to put other vampire’s in thrall. Granted, he could do it to a degree, and even usually only with his direct childer. But Spike wasn’t taking care of himself, and wouldn’t normally allow Angel to help him, no matter his condition. Spike firmly grasped Angel’s hands and stood, frame listing from side to side.

“We’ll have a bit of a drink will we, and then lay ourselves down..” Angel continued to speak, one arm wrapped under spike’s arms so that he could help him walk. The stubborn man probably hadn’t had anything to drink all day, and with the amount of blood he’d lost yesterday in rescuing Willow had affected him badly.

Angel continued to speak softly to Spike every so often, coaxing him into drinking several mugs of blood before he was finally convinced his childe would be allright. He led the blonde man back to his suite and gently guided him into the bed.

It was as angel laid down on the bed next to Spike, nearly drifting off to sleep that Spike seemed to come back to himself. “Sire?”

“Mmm?”

“Did I fall asleep or summat mate? Last I remember I was in the other room with Red..”

“Something like that. But she’s asleep now. You need to sleep to, tomorrow will be a long day.”

“Al’right then.” Spike curled himself around a pillow and drifted off to sleep. Angel wrapped around Spike was not far behind..


End file.
